Chapter 28

The hours went slowly. I'd occasionally get up and patrol the area, though I really didn't expect anyone would be sneaking in from anywhere. I could occasionally hear a shot from the east, desultory shots, probably more someone letting someone else know he was still there than any attempt to hit anything. By now I was convinced that it was either the suspect in our body, or someone else, who'd run to the desert and gotten caught by the cops. From the volume of the initial burst of gunfire I figured there were enough cops that they could have rushed in and taken the guy out, but I knew they wouldn't do that. All such a thing would do was get people shot, and no cop wants that, especially not when he might be one of the ones getting shot.

I thought about calling 911 to report the shooting, but being certain it was the cops I decided not to. They would already have called it in, and no doubt backup was coming, or even in place, though I hadn't heard any sirens or engines. My job was to be ready to protect my family in case that become necessary, and I focused on that.

It must have been around 1 in the morning when Cecelia got up. I was on patrol just then, and first realized she was up when I saw her – just a dark shape – slide out of the back of the Blazer. I knew she'd have her gun with her, and I knew no one was around – I hadn't heard or seen anything, and I was confident I was a better sneak in the desert than anyone from Victorville, or Berdoo or any other city – so I let my boots crunch on the ground as I walked toward her. I also made sure my hands were in sight, just to be on the safe side. All the same, I saw her take her hand off her gun when she realized who I was.

"Darvin," she said.

"It's me," I said.

"I thought it was you – if anyone else were in the area, you would have wakened me. Yet I thought it best to make sure."

"You done right, C." We were keeping our voices low, and I was still listening into the night, though it was still enough that any city slicker would have been audible a long way away as he stumbled through the desert. "I'd rather you be ready to draw on me than let a potential threat get by an' you not ready."

"My thought was that if you were an enemy, I was not going to allow you to get to Darlia."

"Yeah, we done talked about that already." I grinned at her. By now we were standing side by side, looking toward the east where the Grotto Hills cut a black slice out of the starry sky. "I was ready to protect you."

"We both, of course, were protecting our family – we just have different approaches to it."

"Yeah."

"I have been glad for a number of years, Darvin, that you taught me to shoot. It has been a source of pleasure to me, and a capital means of relieving stress. I am doubly glad of it now. I do not believe I will need to face a human being tonight, or tomorrow, or however long that situation exists." She waved her hand toward the east, her dark skin making her arm just a darker line against the sky. "But if I need to defend you or Darlia, I have the means to do so, and for that I am grateful."

"Let's hope you don't have to."

"I have prayed to that end, both before I slept, and when I awoke. And while I make no pretence to being a prophetess, I believe I have assurance that we will remain safe, without need of our weapons."

I glanced at her, seeing the faint shine of her eyes in the starlight. "That's a comfort – but I'm still wearin' my gun."

"I have mine on as well. But I am more relaxed than I was when I lay down."

"I wish we didn't need to have this discussion..."

"The day will come, Darvin, when 'they will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, ' and we will no longer need the protection of firearms – whether our own, or those of law enforcement and the military. But until that day comes, I will tolerate this discussion, for it is needful."

I did more than glance at her – I gave her a good long look. I've known for a good while now that she's got a reputation among some of the people I deal with. I've had more than one person who thought he or she was tough give me a little bit more leeway because of what they thought Cecelia would do if they hurt me. And I've always dismissed those comments, thinking that they were in error – though I've not tried to correct the false impression, for anything that makes me safer is good. But now I wondered. There was no fierceness in her voice, no trembling in her body that I could see, yet I had the impression that if it came to it tonight, Cecelia would shoot first and ask questions later, and wouldn't hesitate if the target were a human being. Maybe some of the people I deal with in my work know more about her than I do.